


Scoundrel's Luck

by weakinteraction



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: On the way to Telos after the death of the Jedi Masters, Atton and Exile can't sleep.





	Scoundrel's Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gamerfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamerfic/gifts).



"No game of dejarik can be won without pawns."

That was what the old witch had said, all the way back on Telos. He had bristled at the idea that he was her pawn, even while knowing it was true. He had thought that he had escaped her clutches when he told Meetra all about his past, took his first unsteady steps with her on the path that Kreia had rejected. It was only now, as they were returning to Telos, that he realised that she had been distracting him from the real issue: who was her opponent?

That was the trouble with hyperspace travel: once you'd punching in the co-ordinates, there was nothing to do except hope that your ship didn't break itself apart. Which left altogether too much time to think.

The rest of the ship was quiet, the others preparing for the coming confrontation in their own ways. Many of them were asleep by now, of course: on Dantooine time, it was well past midnight. Atton was proud of his ability to manage hyperspace jumps just so, so that the trade-off between the length of the path through hyperspace and the diurnal cycle at the destination worked out just right. But it would have been more beneficial if he'd been able to use the night to get some rest.

It was strange how quickly Atton had grown accustomed to travelling with others, even in increasingly cramped conditions as they seemed to pick up ever more waifs and strays on their travels. And of course, there was one person in particular that he had become particularly accustomed to. Not that anything would come of it, of course. She was a Jedi, as he was, now, after a fashion. Everyone knew that the Jedi weren't supposed to love. But if that was the case, then why was it that when Meetra led him in reciting "There is no emotion, there is peace", she never met his gaze?

Atton snorted to himself. There were bigger problems than the Jedi Code in the way of anything happening between the two of them. If they survived the next few days -- the coming confrontation with Visas's master, and whatever Kreia had in store for them -- then he would see what might happen.

"Game of pazaak, Republic Senate rules?"

She had taken him completely by surprise, so quiet had she been coming into the cockpit, and so deep had he been in his reverie.

It was only the fact that he was sitting down that enabled him to mask his reaction; if he'd been stood up, he would have jumped half a metre in the air at her appearance. "You can't sleep either, huh?" he said nonchalantly. He didn't look round. He didn't want her to see that he was smiling, didn't want her to think that he wasn't taking the situation seriously enough. Didn't want her to know the effect she had on him.

"I slept," Meetra said, sliding into the co-pilot's seat. "I think. I lay down on my bunk, anyway."

Atton ignored the mental images that sprang instantly to mind. "Do you think you're ready?" he asked.

"For a game of pazaak?" Meetra said pointedly. "Yes, I am."

"You know that's not what I meant."

She stood up and got out her side deck, turning the console between them into an impromptu pazaak table. "Just deal the cards, Atton."

Atton fished his own deck out of his pocket and started to shuffle. He watched as Meetra carefully considered which cards to put in her side deck, seeming to study it just as deeply as she did the contents of a holocron, or her lightsaber when she realigning its lens.

Atton looked at the flip cards in his own side deck but rejected them. Against any normal opponent, his skill in computing the totals meant that he could very easily use them at the crucial moment to turn the tide of a set in his favour decisively. But Meetra always seemed to have just the right card at just the right time to counter anything so unsubtle. Hardly a surprise: to Atton, it seemed as though she was the still point around which the chaos of the galaxy raged. But could even she deal with three Sith Lords?

Maybe she could, if she had luck on her side. And that was what Atton would need to beat her in this game. He picked out his near-worthless +6 card, the one he'd kept in his side deck ever since he'd learned the game from the old spacer who had retired to Alderaan and taken up residence in his village. His parents hadn't approved, of the gambling or his friendship with the old man. But then, there was very little he did that his parents had approved of, up to and including his departure. Perhaps, if he and the rest of the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ made it through, he would go back and visit them. Their son, the Jedi. Stranger things had happened, but not many.

"Just choose, Atton," Meetra said.

"I have chosen," Atton said. "I'm just thinking."

She grabbed the main deck from him and dealt him a card. Two, nice and low; if she got a high card it would obviate the disadvantage of starting.

Meetra dealt herself a one.

They played on, nearly evenly matched. But over time, Meetra edged ahead on the total number of matches won. Atton changed his side deck a few times between matches, but still kept the +6 in there. Meetra, meanwhile, stuck to her initial selection.

"It's hardly fair," Atton said when he reached five matches behind. "After all, you do keep finding mindblowingly powerful cards everywhere we go." She had shared some of them with him, and Mira -- none of the others would admit to owning a deck -- but always kept the very best ones for herself.

Meetra gave him a significant look. "I can't work out whether I find them, or they find me." Earlier, she'd told him what the Masters had said, before Kreia had killed them; about her strange ability to form such strong Force bonds so quickly.

"Perhaps you find each other?" Atton said.

"Perhaps," she agreed.

They played on, by the swirling blue light of hyperspace. Atton had a run of luck and won a few matches in a row, albeit narrowly. Eventually, they were level again.

"Of course, if we'd been betting," Atton said, " _that_ would have been the one I went big on."

"Of course," Meetra said with a smile. "Shall we make this one the decider?" She yawned. "We really ought to at least try to sleep."

"What does the winner get?"

"Bragging rights," Meetra said. "Why, what did you want?"

"Oh, nothing," Atton lied.

"Not that you're going to win, of course."

He dealt out the cards ... and somehow managed to give Meetra a natural 20 in the first two cards. The next set was much closer, both of them receiving low scoring card after low scoring card. Eventually, Atton won despite having a lower total by the rule about filling the table.

The next two sets were routine, and went one apiece.

"So," Atton said as he dealt out the first card, "the decider of the decider."

Meetra had two side deck cards left, Atton only one: that +6 he had had for years. Even if he didn't draw it to his active side deck, he always felt as though its presence in his pocket would bring him luck.

After two cards, Meetra was on 16. Playing it safe, she played a +3 and stuck.

Atton dealt his second card and took a moment to realise what he was seeing: a five to go with his nine. You should always draw to 14, he thought, and almost instantly reached for the deck, before stopping himself just in time.

"Ah ha!" he said, playing the +6 from his side deck.

"Well done," Meetra said.

Atton held out his hand to shake, but to his surprise when she grabbed it she pulled him towards her, so that he was most of the way across the console between them. Suddenly, she was kissing him, her lips warm and tender against his, but firm too in the way they pressed on his. Taken by surprise, it took him a moment to return the kiss; when he did, her lips parted to admit his tongue. Everything about it felt completely novel and completely natural at the same time.

And then, just as suddenly, she let go of him again, so quickly that Atton had to steady himself on the side to stop himself from falling.

"That was what you wanted for your prize, wasn't it?" Meetra said. "Goodnight, Atton."

"Goodnight," Atton said weakly, finding his way back to the pilot's seat, using his hands to steady himself.

As he settled back down to staring at the navicomputer output -- he knew he wasn't going to be sleeping that night, however useful it would be to do so -- he wondered why Meetra had done what she'd just done. Had it been an indication that she was convinced she was doomed, or a promise that they would get through this, and be able to build something better together -- something _real_. Perhaps she wanted him to believe that, whether it was true or not.

But what lay ahead, exactly? What would they find at Telos? And what exactly was the game Kreia was playing? And how could he help Meetra?

Kreia had always underestimated him. The demeanour she saw through all too well when she needed to, seemed to have worked on her a little after all, with her sarcastic dismissals and pointed rejoinders. Maybe she would misjudge at the last, wrapped up as she was in her machinations.

Atton was determined that he wasn't going to be Kreia's pawn any more. But maybe, just maybe, he thought, he could be Meetra's lucky pazaak card.


End file.
